H U M A N I T Y
by Infinite Vibrance
Summary: Humanity was something Byakuran could do without. Emotions? Please. They were weak, grotesque weights placed to limit one's true potential. No matter what time period he was in, Byakuran always had it all. The fame, the power, the glory, yet in the end they were never really... enough. For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?
1. Chapter One

Hey everyone! **Infinite Vibrance** here with a grand spanking new story for KHR. Holy crap this is my first fanfic _ever _for this fandom. If you have ever heard of **marshmallowfluffbutt**, the Byakuran roleplay account, I'm actually that account's mun. SMALL WORLD, EH? Yeah. This fluffybutt wanted to write her little muse growing and learning about the wonderful world of emotions and angst.

I WILL TORTURE HIM PROFUSELY.

Anyways, this will go in chronological order from past to present. We start in Ancient Rome and end in Venice Italy, present day. You could say they're loosely interconnected one shots of sorts because at times I may refer to something that happened in the past, thanks to Byakuran's lovely powers of dimension hopping, but other than that the only main prevalent connection between all the chapters will be whatever Byakuran learns from the prior chapter.

He'll meet one major character in each chapter and will, hopefully, put the pieces together to rebuild his humanity. Whether he likes it or not.

One term of Roman endearment will be used such as _Carissime _which basically translates to dear.

OKAY ONWARD TO WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS BECAUSE I'M SURE YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR ME BABBLE.

**Warning: This will feature MXM situations here and there, and this chapter has _brief _mentions of sex/rape. **

**Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING BUT MY BLOG AND THIS HALF-EMPTY JAR OF NUTELLA.**

Enjoy HUMANITY!

* * *

_**H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y**_

_**D.E. F. I. N. E: **_The quality of **being humane**.

Such a struggle it was to become the very thing he hated. Days ticked by, falling like sand down through the tiny neck of a hourglass. He could feel his sanity slipping, insanity creeping in with every intention of taking over, of consuming him whole and raw. His body convulsed. Chains snapped onto his hands and wrists and drug him under the murky waters of the damned.

Suffocating—

He simply wanted to become human.

He wanted humanity.

**Chapter One **

**Roman Empire 300 B.C.**

Purple eyes cracked open slowly. Horribly bright light seeped through his window. Purple, satin blankets covered his body from the waist down. Another day he suffered by being awake. Another day to craft a mask and become an entity born for higher ground that no normal human could ever obtain.

Good thing he wasn't human.

He sat up slowly, his muscles flexing and rippling as he stretched. A yawn left his lips. At the same time his white, double doors stained with marble and arched to perfection were opened. In wheeled in a breakfast fit for a king—no, correction. Wheeled in was a feast set for a god.

"Your Majesty," his maid bowed, her pink haired tied into a proper bun. Her skin was a rich caramel brought out richly against the pure white dress she wore. A black mask covered her eyes. "Breakfast today will be a collection of your favorites."

The majesty sat up, resting against his purple, fluffy pillows. No words of gratitude left his lips. He sat there until the tray was placed on his lap. The first thing he grabbed was the glass of wine.

He took a sip.

"Delicious," he purred. The wine slid down his throat, rejuvenating his system. He downed the mug in three seconds flat, now chomping away at his cheesecake. "Ah, nothing like a cup of _muslum_ to start the day off. And this cheesecake!" he gazed at the slice admiringly before slipping it into his mouth. "Absolutely exquisite. Where did you get them?"

"The ingredients to make your meal came from the marketplace, Your Majesty."

"We must remember to not burn down this marketplace, then." he surmised. He finished off the rest of his breakfast, not leaving a crumb in place. He licked his fingers clean, one by one, glancing out of the corner of his eye to the woman who had not left her spot by the door. "I smell your fear from a mile away."

She stiffened. "I... It is only natural to fear someone powerful, is it not?"

Natural? He scoffed. Of course. What had he expected? Fear was _natural. _Fear was a part of being _human_. Yet what did he know about the nuances of human nature?

"I suppose." he mused. "How does it feel?"

"How does... _what _feel?"

"Oh, you're an intelligent young women. Pretty too. Think."

She bit her lip. "It's... icy, Your Majesty."

"And?"

"And... it grasps at my throat so much so that I cannot breathe. Cannot think except for one thought."

"To run," he finished. They always wanted to run. That's what they all said.

She nodded. "I apologize, Your Majesty. I do not wish to fear you, but I—"

He shook his head. "No need for apologies. It's understandable. After all, fear comes from the unknown. You can't read me. You cannot decipher whether or not I'll let you live or snap your neck and leave your rotting corpse by my bedside table." his voice was light, like he was reading a fairy tale to ease the thunderous thoughts of a child. "Who knows," he tilted his head to the side, "I'm thinking red would work wonders with my white floors, don't you agree?"

She didn't have a chance to speak up. A translucent hand popped up from the ground beneath her, crushing her frail body as the albino squeezed his hand into a fist. Her limp, lifeless body fell to the ground.

"Darn..." the albino pouted. "I was hoping for more blood."

Another maid murdered. The twelfth one this week. They rarely lasted the morning.

In his throne room, the majesty of this world listened to the complaints and woes of his subjects. Boring. A tedious task he dealt with if only to garner a higher level of positive public opinion. Midday brought along lunch with the delegates. Humans on the lowest scale of reverence on the Majesty's scale of importance. Their thoughts did not matter to him. They were bugs he could squish and snuff out when he no longer found value in their presence. When the sun set over the valley of his kingdom, when night and shadows blanketed his city, that's when the curtain withdrew. The stage was presented to the whole world to gawk and whisper about the atrocities thrown into the limelight the city held.

The Majesty took his puppets, one by one. Tied them to nylon strings and held them over the rafters, letting them fall inch by inch. They would twist around the string, their wooden mouths left gaping—the shock at such a slow descent blowing their minds. Ah, how they were beautiful puppets. Puppets tied to his fingertips that moved at a twitch of his finger. The puppets played their part so well, following the script The Majesty painted in his head.

Byakuran Gesso: the supreme ruler of this world.

A man who broke off his humanity to grow wings of the damned that would soar him higher than any other human could ever wish to reach.

A god, he boasted.

Who needed pitiful nuances like emotions and reason when power and dominance were the building blocks to superiority?

Humanity was a trait Byakuran happily threw into the trash. There was no going back, now. Not when he was at the top with iron chains shackled to his ankles.

"My Lord, we have brought you the prisoner."

"Finally," Byakuran waved his hand. "Bring him forward."

Two arched doorways flew open, streaming in sunlight from the outside world. Two guards came in with one extra parcel, a boy about fourteen, dragged in by a collar. The boy was blindfolded, shadowed from the world—and his new fate. Byakuran grinned. Oh, a new toy. Byakuran loved getting new toys.

"State your name," Byakuran drawled.

The boy didn't say anything at first. So the guards mutually glanced at one another before acting. Simultaneously they pulled on their captive's chains, causing the brunet to fall onto the ground. A tiny squeak flew around the room. At this moment, Byakuran should be feeling the emotion sympathy. To define it was simple: **sym·pa·thy** / noun / feelings of **pity **and **sorrow **for **someone else's **misfortune. To truly experience such an emotion, however, was not as simple. Difficult, convoluted, tortuous, those were much better words to explain how to feel sympathy. Byakuran's only thoughts as the boy was beaten, yanked, and bruised into speaking was an empty stomach covered with frost. A heart that barely skipped a beat to the sight before him. Boredom, it sat so heavily on his shoulders Byakuran had to hold back the urge to slump.

This was not sympathy. This was complete and utter _**indifference **_to the atrocity before him.

A splatter of blood tainted the floor now. The boy twitched and whimpered, begging for the pain to go away. Byakuran finally gave signal to the guards to stop their beatings. "Now then, can I hear your name? Blood is always a nice color to splash about but not for my stainless white marble floors." Byakuran clucked his tongue. "That's simply _overbearing._"

It took a while, but he finally managed to hear a "Tsunayoshi..." trail from out of the boy's throat. Ah, a Asian. They were such a rare yet fetching catch to stumble upon, especially here in the Roman Empire. Byakuran barely hid back his grin, so full of glee. It had been so long since he managed to grab a toy that didn't die overseas!

"Tsunayoshi, was it?" he barely got a head nod. Oh well, that's what he was going to call the boy from now on, or some other term of endearment that popped into the albino's head. "Cute name. Very fitting. Guards, leave us." the two guards bowed and left the boy alone to their emperor, but not before undoing the boy's blindfold.

Now Byakuran sat back and watched; observed. As a scientist watched the mouse find its way through the maze, so too did Byakuran examine how Tsunayoshi responded to his new environment. First there was fear. Oh there was always fear. Confusion and sadness that quickly dissolved to anger. Pure, unbridled anger that seemed to simmer and simmer as the furnace burned brighter and brighter.

"I-I want to go home," A fighter's spirit, huh?

Byakuran smirked. "You _are _home."

"That's not what I mean!" Tsunayoshi lashed out. Byakuran watched the boy gasp, and then shrink back into himself. Self-awareness, the acuity of the situation and just who was the alpha male was as clear as the mural of Byakuran sitting on the southern wall of the throne room. "I... I was kidnapped."

"Yes, obviously."

"But I don't want to be here!" Tsuna quickly continued.

"And here I thought you were a timid little creature." Byakuran pulled himself out of his throne, his tunic pure embroidered with dazzling golds around his neckline. Step by step, he walked. Graceful with the air of an angel surrounding his entire being. He bent down to the boy's level, since Tsuna was at least three heads shorter than the Majesty, and grinned—the perfect mirror of the devil's grin. "Glad to know I was wrong. I love my toys with a spark of fight."

And there it was. That glimmer of fear. That spark of dread that would soon devour every inch and nook of the slave's body until he could barely move. Immobilized. Distraught. Swept by the emotions of being trapped and helpless. Byakuran could see the stage so clearly. The new puppet was getting caught and tangled in its own strings controlled by the puppet master. Suffocating—so suffocating...

Byakuran cupped the boy's face in a firm grip. His eyes were cold but his face was all smiles. "You are my pet. You are my toy. You are here to serve me in anyway I deem fit. When I say this is your home, I mean it. This. Is. Your. Home. Forget your new life. Embrace your new found world. And here," Byakuran picked up the shackles that still hung from Tsunayoshi's hands, "you can even keep these as a little housewarming gift."

**Im·pris·on** / verb / To put in a** prison** or a place like a prison.

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y+

A whole month Byakuran took to the painstakingly long task of breaking his slave. A single strike by the hammer would be too much. All the pieces to his slave's soul would be scattered on the ground like ashes detailing the remnants of a burnt city. Too much of a hassle to clean. Too much of a burden to place on the Emperor's shoulders. So with a little pick axe he hacked and hacked and hacked, bit by bit, depth by depth until the boy was his and his alone.

Tsuna went nowhere without Byakuran by his side. In public, he obediently hid behind Byakuran until spoken to. And in bed—oh dear, the little slave had opened up so nicely...

A whole month later, Byakuran sat in his library pretending to do judicial things when really he was goofing off. Tsuna was off somewhere, probably in the garden or out wandering the hallway. The boy was rarely too far away from Byakuran's presence. Bore, bore, dread, dread. These papers seriously needed to sign themselves! Dear Zeus Almighty what a bore! Yet if Byakuran didn't at least _attempt _such trivial aspects that came with dominion over the most powerful empire in the Old World, his dearest advisor, Irie Shouichi—another of Asian descent—would surely give him what's what.

"Though as of right now I really don't _have _to finish these papers..." Easily convinced, Byakuran set loose to find his little slave. Lo and behold, his search didn't last long. Tsunayoshi was out in the little oasis Byakuran had stationed in the middle of his palace. A walkway made from the finest stone would lead a traveler to a giant, glistening, crystal blue pond that held the world's rarest and most exotic fish an Emperor could own. There, Tsuna was sitting on a rock being taught the Roman alphabet. He was progressing rather slowly in his studies, to be honest, though Byakuran really wasn't in any rush to call Tsuna a scholar in everything Roman.

If he was good in bed, that's all that mattered.

"_Carissime_, enjoying yourself?" Byakuran held a winner's smile. One that was warm and inviting and overall _fake_.

Tsuna instantly perked up hearing his master's name. A sound that used to send him shivering and huddling into a corner now made his soul flutter a bit. See? Breaking your toys _can _be a good thing. "Master!" Tsuna jumped up from his spot and ran over to hug Byakuran around the waist. "Did you sneak out of doing your paperwork already?"

Another lovely thing about his new toy, the boy had a wicked sense of insight. More so than most of Byakuran's advisors. The albino chuckled and ruffled Tsunayoshi's hair. "But of course. You know me too well, Tsunayoshi."

Tsuna blushed. "N-Not really. I mean... it's only natural that I know these things about you, Master... It's not weird, is it?"

"Not at all! In fact I'm so very flattered by your interest in me, Tsunayoshi." Byakuran leaned forward to peck Tsuna on the cheek. "In fact, I'm so delighted I think a trip out into the city would be a nice little treat for you! How does that sound?"

Tsuna's face was alight with joy. He looked like a boy on Christmas morning. "That sounds wonderful, Master!"

_See_? And you all thought Byakuran didn't know how to keep his toys happy.

Three hours later, with two of Byakuran's guards flanking either side of him and Tsuna, the duo were out into the city. Byakuran had the option of cloaking himself and Tsuna so no rebel or vagabond could try to attack them but Byakuran was feeling rather confident. A god cannot be harmed. A god cannot be touched. Nor would he let anything happen to his precious toy, so despite Shouichi's dire protests, Byakuran went outside without any concealment methods.

Byakuran took a glance down at the boy holding his hand. Tsuna was looking at every little stand and shop with wonder and curiosity. It wasn't even the boy's first time in the city, though Byakuran had to admit he rarely ever took Tsuna outside. Terrible, really, but Byakuran didn't want the whole world to hog his toy. Tsuna was _his _toy. Ah, but a little sunlight never hurt anybody, and Tsunayoshi had gone through such a hard month of 'rehabilitation'. Byakuran was truly doing the boy a favor.

"You know, if you wish to go off and look; you can." Byakuran leaned forward to whisper into Tsuna's ear.

Tsuna's eyes widened. "Really? You mean it, Master?"

Byakuran smiled. "Would I ever lie to you?"

Lies washing right over Tsuna's head, the brunet beamed and gave Byakuran a kiss in gratification before running off to a nearby stall.

Kikyo, one of Byakuran's guardian of sorts, quickly fell into step beside Byakuran. "My Lord, if you will."

"Ne, Kikyo. Do you think I should get the white scarf or the purple scarf?" Byakuran, being himself, was already at a stall himself holding up two, almost identical scarves.

"Whatever suits you the best, My Lord. Now if I may—"

"Nonsense, Kikyo! If I knew which suited me best I would not be asking you for advice! Now seriously, which one should I pick?"

Kikyo held back the urge to sigh. His master could be so difficult sometimes... "They would both look fantastic on you, My Lord, but I think—"

"Oh you're absolutely right, Kikyo!" Byakuran took out a few gold coins and dropped them into the merchants hands. "I'll be taking both of these, thank you. Your store is very lovely by the way," Byakuran flashed the woman a charming smile, knowing fully well that his presence alone was probably sending the girl into a nervous breakdown.

"T-Thank you, Your Majesty!" the girl bowed repeatedly, so much so that Byakuran was highly tempted to let her keep going. Deciding on that, he turned around to face a less-than-happy Kikyo.

"What? Did you wish for me to buy you a scarf as well?"

"No, Your Majesty. I wanted to give you my opinion, if that is alright with you."

Byakuran pretended to ponder on this for a few seconds. "Speak."

"That boy, the slave you acquired last month..." Kikyo's eyes flickered to the boy who was currently trying on different beadworks around his neck over by a nearby shop.

"What about him?"

"Do you not think that it is time for you to... 'dump' him?"

Byakuran's eyes suddenly hardened. His normal, carefree smile was replaced with a frown. Byakuran rarely showed his anger. He hid his emotions behind a perfectly crafted mask. Unless, you of course, stepped on a landmine you were better off avoiding.

"And why, pray tell, do you think I would ever consider doing such a thing?"

"My Lord, hear me out!" Kikyo was digging a hole and trying to climb out fast. "You can have any pick of slaves from all over the country—no, the world! A slave owned by you lasts no longer than a week at most. Zeus knows your maids do not even last the day."

Kikyo had a very good point at that.

"So you're issue isn't stemming from the fact that it is Tsunayoshi I bed and not you?" Byakuran cocked an eyebrow, his face still a cool, undecipherable mask.

Kikyo sputtered, a reddish tint scarring his cheeks. "Y-Yes My Lord—I mean no! No, it does not stem from such a thing! Though it would be a great honor to be bedded by you, Your Majesty."

"Obviously." Byakuran's smile came back in place, though his eyes never regained that shimmer of mischief and amusement. "I am grasping your point, though, and see what concerns you. However there is no need for you to fret. Tsunayoshi is nothing but a _toy_. A fun one, at that, and if your fear is drawn from the idea of rebels using him to get to me then you are gaining worry lines for nothing." Byakuran rested his hand on Kikyo's shoulder. "Do you doubt me?"

Their gaze lasted long and hard before Kikyo finally swallowed, nodding. "No, My Lord."

"Excellent!" The glimmer came back and once again Byakuran was his happy, go-lucky self. Especially with the return of Tsunayoshi back to his side.

"Master! Master! Look what I bought!" Tsunayoshi held up his new ring that adorned his index finger. A bright gold with a sunny orange gemstone in the middle.

"It's beautiful," Byakuran remarked, inflecting his voice with that of pride and wonder. Though really he was a little miffed. He had bought Tsunayoshi his first gold earring just two weeks ago. Now he needed a ring too? "What else did you buy?"

"Uh, well, I bought some apples." Tsunayoshi held up a basket full of apples, all red and glistening in the Roman sun.

Both Kikyo and Byakuran exchanged glances.

"We have food back in the palace, Tsunayoshi."

"I-I'm sorry, Master. I know that but..." Tsuna bit his bottom lip. "I thought we could, um... peel apples together and... I could feed you the slices later on when we..." he cut off short, too embarrassed to even announce what they'd probably be getting into later on tonight.

Byakuran quickly put two and two together, grinning his head off. He scooped Tsuna's face into his hands and peppered the boy with kisses. "Oh you are the most adorable slave in the world, _Carissime_!"

"G-Gah! M-Master, stop it! Stop!" despite all of his protests, Tsuna was reduced to a giggling mess from all the affection. And Kikyo, poor, poor Kikyo was forced to stand off to the side trying very hard not to puke from all the endearment.

"U-Um... excuse me." a tiny voice called out, so soft Byakuran nearly had to strain his ears to hear it. And his hearing was _perfect_, mind you. Glancing down, Byakuran noticed a little girl around the age of six if he had to put his finger on it. She had dirt on her everywhere. On her face, on her knees, under her fingernails, and in her hair. Her eyes were red and she was missing four teeth.

Tsuna instantly took a small step behind Byakuran.

"Where's your mother, little girl?" Byakuran could put on a caring facade. He could pretend to care and lie through his teeth about how much he wanted you safe and sound.

The little girl with her ashen hair and knobbly knees shook her head. "Don't know. I'm really, really hungry..." she eyed the basket of apples without any shame. Her stomach growled and she gripped her stomach, a frown marring her delicate face.

In this moment, Byakuran should be feeling sympathy. He should be whisking this girl off to the nearest food cart and buying her a gold mine of food. If not because of the human design to help one another, but simply to promote his public image to the crowd. Yet his heart didn't skip a bit. It did not sink or float seeing her reaction to the food. His mind did not come to the conclusion to help her. If anything, Byakuran was getting hungry himself.

Tsuna was the one to step in. To show Byakuran a true life example of what sympathy truly was. "Here," he held out the basket of apples, a shy yet warm smile on his face. "Take as many as you'd like."

The girl's eyes lit up. "R-Really?" Tsuna nodded and the little girl squealed, taking as many as her little arms could carry. "T-Thank you!" she nodded to both Tsuna and Byakuran before darting off into the crowd.

"Tsuna... half the basket is gone," Byakuran spoke after a few seconds.

"I know but there's enough left for tonight. Don't worry." Tsuna flashed Byakuran the most dazzling the albino had ever seen. "She needed those apples and if I can help her from not starving tonight, than I can go to sleep without a guilty conscience."

Tsuna's smile literally hurt. Byakuran absentmindedly clutched at his chest as the group of four headed back to the palace.

'_A guilty conscience, huh...?' _What in the world did that even feel like?

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y+

"Say, 'Ahhh'!"

Tsuna opened his mouth wide as Byakuran fed him another apple slice. The two had retreated back to Byakuran's bed chambers right as they returned from their shopping trip. Tsuna was laying on top of Byakuran, his hands splaying across the albino's chest . He was fed another apple, a look of pure bliss on his face.

"These apples are really good, huh?" Tsuna asked.

"Rather delicious, really. Would you like another?"

Tsuna shook his head. "No, Master. I actually want something sweeter..." Tsuna bit his lips and stared at Byakuran's lips with a very clear intention on what he wanted next. Byakuran barely hid back his smirk as he pulled Tsuna in for a kiss, their lips melding and their tongues touching as hands grappled everywhere. Only recently had he pulled Tsunayoshi out of the shell labeled 'self-consciousness'. Now Tsuna held no qualms, though it was a bit hesitant, to ask for something of the sexual nature.

There were nights, however, when Byakuran had to remind himself why he obtained Tsuna in the first place. Despite all the endearing touches and growing confidence Tsuna had every time their bodies and hearts connected, Byakuran had to steel himself. He was not enamored by the boy. He was not passionate, romantic, nor infatuated with the brunet. Tsuna was bought for sexual fulfillment. For a void to be filled that no lowly beggar off the street could ever engender.

Yet Byakuran, staring down at the naked form of his slave, a boy who was begging and yearning and grasping for his touch at every second, felt his heart do something stupid. It lurched and jumped and scratched at its bony confines, begging to be released. Begging to... to feel... to...

Byakuran pulled out, his orgasm coating Tsuna's thighs and stomach. The boy cried out from the sensation, his screams quickly transforming to moans of pleasure as Byakuran pumped Tsuna to completion. The world was white. Everything was fuzzy and discordant. Byakuran felt himself snapping from the seams. Despondent to Tsuna's coos and whimpers of pleasure as the boy nuzzled against his chest, Byakuran chewed on the inner lining of his cheek.

This feeling. The warm yet chilly grasp around his heart that squeezed him so tightly made it so hard to breathe. This feeling was so... unfamiliar. How it came to be, where it came from, why it was _here _in the first place, the emperor couldn't put his finger on it. And... that honestly _scared _him.

He had to stop it.

'_This feeling is unfitting of a god.' _The sooner it was squashed out the better. Maybe some distance would provide the solution. A remedy to... whatever ailment Byakuran was catching.

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y+

Utter boredom settled its roots into Byakuran's bones. Couldn't he have adopted the role of ruler without all the nitty gritty diplomatic work in-between? He could be intimidating and obtrusive, sure, but appeasing and mollifying? Ha! Byakuran enjoyed fueling a fire and watching every hay doll burn around him than actually helping to diffuse the situation.

"And with that I would like to bring up the idea of using our army to invade East Africa!" one of his diplomats, a rather plump man with a name Byakuran never bothered to remember.

"Don't be daft!" another diplomat roared. "Our troops have just come back from a very bloody war and you expect to ship them off to uncharted territory? At least wait a month for feasting and resting before they are deployed!"

"Time is of the essence! The Roman Empire is strong and at the crux of international power. If we do not take the time to siege and acquire more territory we will surely suffer serious repercussions!"

The debate went like this back and forth. Do we take over Africa or do we leave it off to the side until we find better uses for the untouched continent. Honestly Byakuran was neither here nor there with the decision. More land was good but if there was no true economic value to acquiring the territory then what was the point? The only good thing from this debate was that it gave Byakuran something to entertain himself with until the meeting was over. Other than that, after this was all said and done, he'd be nursing a headache for the rest of the night.

"Master, I've brought some drinks." Oh look, it was his nice little slave. Tsuna entered the throne room with a platter of the most delicious wine in all of Rome.

All eyes were on the boy and Byakuran was certainly not blind to all the lustful, amused stares the brunet got as he set individual drinks for each person.

"Thank you, _Carissime_." Byakuran ruffled Tsuna's hair as the boy came to stand beside him. Byakuran narrowed his eyes at anyone and everyone who decided to give a second glance Tsunayoshi's way. Sure, he wanted distance from the brunet but Tsuna was still _his _and only he was allowed to give him lustful glares.

Tsuna bowed in response. Byakuran watched as the boy fidgeted from side to side under the stares. He vaguely wondered if he should say something. _'Something along the lines of 'I did not know I allowed rabid animals in my presence'? No. That doesn't sound mocking enough...' _

"That's a cute slave you've got there." Byakuran perked up from the comment. Who was the idiot trying to make a pass at his slave?

"Isn't he?" Byakuran replied nonchalantly, his eyes upturned like crescent moods. He had a pleasant smile on his face but anyone who was the wiser could tell it was all fake. "I got him a few months ago from Asia."

"Interesting..." No. Shut that inflecting voice full of wonder this instant! Byakuran clenched his jaw. Who was this man again? So scruffy and unkempt and a huge eyesore in the presence of the emperor. Byakuran truly tried to place his finger on who this man was and why he was even regarded for the council but was coming up empty.

Tsuna flinched, moving closer to Byakuran. For the rest of the meeting Byakuran made sure that his hand remained clasped with Tsuna's. The meeting dragged on for another hour before everyone was dismissed.

Byakuran slouched back in his throne, completely drained. "Those council meetings will be the death of me..." he muttered.

"You look really tired, Master." Tsuna placed a timid hand over Byakuran's forehead. "Perhaps you should rest. You've had a very long day, catch some rest."

"I think I'll have to take you up on that offer." Dammit. There he was again. Showing interest. Showing enthusiasm and becoming involved with Tsunayoshi. No. This had to stop. He couldn't... He was smiling and it hurt his face from the utter realism it depicted simply having Tsunayoshi by his side, beaming up at him like sleeping beside his master was the most pleasant thing in the world.

His heart was stammering, on the verge of death. Plummeting, plunging, planning to commit suicide on the spot. That's how it felt for Byakuran. His mind was in a tizzy and this state of confusion was grating on his fried nerves.

Byakuran slowly let go of Tsuna's hand.

Before the boy could question what Byakuran was doing, the delegate from earlier waddled in. Heavy set and reeking of wine, the man wasn't privy on hiding his infatuation of Tsuna.

"My Lord, if you would." the delegate began.

Byakuran cocked an eyebrow. "I'm debating to walk away right now but that would be rude. Speak."

"Oh _thank _you." Was that a hint of sardonicism in his words? "I must say that your slave from Asia has captured my interest. If it would please you I would like to take your slave on a little trip. A tour of my city and all that it has to value. It would be such a shame to keep such a slave brimming with potential locked in your palace, would it not?"

Potential talent...? _'In what? Catering?' _Byakuran kept his smile in place, however, choosing to keep his witty comments to himself. Tsuna, after all, was in the room. And although he wanted to create a schism between himself and the boy, insulting his intelligence would not be apart of Byakuran's methodology.

Besides, it didn't take a genius to figure out what sort of 'potential' the delegate was talking about.

"Interesting," Byakuran pretended to muse. "What makes you think I cannot take my slave out by himself? I obviously have enough assets and resources to fund a trip of any scale if I wished for him to travel."

"My Lord, you are no fool. Your snap assessment and stellar analytic skills are why you're the emperor of the mightiest empire in the world." Yes, yes, Byakuran knew. Could you get on with it, already? "But you know, as well as I know, that if you step outside this palace you are not only putting yourself in danger, but your little slave as well."

Tsuna stiffened and Byakuran didn't know if that was from a human's natural instinct to protect itself, or because he heard Byakuran was in trouble as well.

"Excellent deduction. Something I_ never _would have thought of on my own." Alright, this conversation was dragging longer than Byakuran would like. It was time to dismiss this fool and go back to his palace so he can drink the night away. Then it hit him like a bullet train. An epiphany of sorts.

Why was he driving away this man that clearly wanted to take Tsuna away for a decent amount of time. Time given so Byakuran could evaluate himself and get his nonexistent morals in check. He wanted distance and here was his solution presented as bright as day. Why was he trying so hard to deny that?

The delegate opened his mouth to speak his case again but Byakuran quickly silenced him with a raise of the hand. "Do not even bother, I was joking. Tell me, how long do you plan on taking my slave with you?"

Another stiffen from the brunet. Another shaky glance his way. Byakuran ignored it all.

"A few months, My Lord."

"A numeral, please."

"Five months."

"Five months of touring your _wonderful _country?"

"That, My Lord, and I was hoping I could..." he licked his lips, eyes of a predator breaking through. They showed blatant interest in what he wanted to do with Tsuna.

The brunet ultimately stepped behind Byakuran, cowering and shivering. He shook his head repeatedly, whimpering 'No, no, no'. No—a crack. No—another crack. No, no, no—so many cracks. So many chasms. His heart was collapsing with each protest and whimper Tsuna made. They made Byakuran bleed and made him want to do things he never would have fathomed before. To take this brunet into his arms and whisk him away to higher ground where no one else could ever even look at him again. Oh, how Byakuran wanted to. His fingers curled and tingled. His eyes narrowed slightly. His stomach did flops and flips all over the place.

And then, all at once, those fires of emotions that were sparking like volcanic eruptions were smothered. Smitted. Extinguished.

Byakuran bent down and placed his hands on Tsuna's shoulders. "Look at me, slave." when Tsuna refused to do such a thing, Byakuran squeezed a little tighter. "_Tsuna_," Byakuran whispered. "Look at me. Good boy. Now stop crying. This is an excellent opportunity for you to spread your wings and see more of this world. I, for obvious reasons, cannot accompany you so you'll be going with this man instead."

"But I—I don't want to! Master, please! I wish to stay with you!" Tsuna wailed.

So many tears. Byakuran had never seen so many tears before in his life. Each tear was another stab. Another crack. Byakuran never really gazed upon the face of a crying human being and felt such... movement in his soul.

It hurt.

So much that Byakuran needed to create the ultimate mask. A mask of complete indifference and utter despondency nature to rip the shreds of mortality that were breaking through the mold. He pulled on a smile. He upturned his eyes. He broke all contact.

He lied. He lied. He _lied_.

"Very endearing of you, Tsunayoshi. Though to put it bluntly _I _do not wish to see _you_. So, begone. It will only be five months. No need to be so devastated. The distance will be good for you. You've become so... attached. Honestly, it's _sickening_."

Words were powerful, powerful tools that Byakuran abused on a daily basis. To manipulate. To bend. To weave lies and tales into great myths of legend and envy for others to behold his immense power. Words were how he got to the top in the first place. A bright smile, a promise of a benevolent future if you allow Byakuran to rule. Words were the knife that inevitable cut the relationship, the oh-so-fragile relationship, Byakuran had mended over the past six months.

Half a year.

That's the longest a slave ever stayed in Byakuran's palace.

There were so many tears afterwards, not from Byakuran. So much screaming and thrashing that Byakuran _himself _had to knock out the slave in order for the delegate to even pack his things and leave. That night the palace was extremely empty, barren, _desolate. _Like the life had been sucked dry from its immense grandeur.

Byakuran didn't sleep in his room that night, either. He chose to stay in his guest quarters on the other side of the palace. Sleep came in doses. Nightmares came in droves and waves that crushed him under their entirety.

No, he needed to do this. His immorality was coming back and ripping his damnation by the seams and it needed to stop. He could not feel. He would not allow himself to ever experience the burden and weakness of emotions ever again. Not this time, not in this world, not in this universe the next time over.

With that in mind, Byakuran woke up and drank himself to a drunken sleep, ineffectively washing away the terrible burn that lined his stomach and _effectively _wiping out the horrible ache in his heart.

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y+

Five months later, Tsuna returned. Smaller than normal. Detached from the world around him. The minute their eyes locked, Byakuran knew it was over. There was no light, no glimmer of happiness and joy that usually radiated whenever Tsuna gazed upon him. Their relationship was over. Destroyed. Reduced to a pile of rubble that could make Persia's fall seem tame. At that moment, Byakuran knew he had to send Tsuna away. Anywhere. _Somewhere. _

Because the freaking ache that burned his soul was back, and it was ten times stronger knowing that he was the one that aided in the demise of their relationship.

He called Kikyo about a week later in order to get preparations for Tsuna's departure in order. Only to receive terrible news.

"He is dying, Your Majesty."

"Run that by me again."

Kikyo swallowed. Byakuran was holding him under such a terrifying scalding gaze. "I... Your slave, he is dying. The healer gives him three more days, if the gods are even that lenient."

There it was again.

The burn that rattled his bones and made his soul cry in anguish. It was diminutive at first, but sparked to greater and more powerful outbursts of despair.

Before Byakuran knew what he was doing, he had already bolted from his library and ran the entire length of the palace to get to Tsuna's room. He found the boy wrapped under bundles of satin blankets, flushed in the face and looking like a ghost. A wilted papyrus withering in the Roman earth.

Byakuran swallowed.

"Tsunayoshi..." no response. "Tsuna. _Carissime_..." each attempt carried a footstep, and another footstep and another footstep until Byakuran all but collapsed by the foot of the bed.

His hands were shaking. They never did that before.

Slowly, oh so anguishly slowly, did those chocolate brown eyes open. They were weary and muggy and lost and Byakuran almost cried—in desperation. Not with tears.

"M-Master...? Is that you?" the boy struggled to breathe. "Or is this another dream...?"

"No, Tsuna. It is not a dream. I'm here. Right by your side." he did something so out of character. He reached out his hand and placed it onto Tsunayoshi's. It was cold to the touch.

"I... can't believe it. T-That you're here..." silence. "I thought you... hated me."

"No never!" Byakuran shot out quickly before biting his tongue. _Dammit. _"I was simply busy with diplomatic work. You know how swamped I get..."

"Yeah... So, you don't hate me?"

"No..." Byakuran swallowed again. "Not at all."

"Then... why did you send me away?"

A catalyst in its own rights, Tsuna's words sparked a wave of emotions Byakuran thought he never had to experience again. Compassion and sympathy for another human being. Desperation to keep a life in tact. Guilt that rattled his soul and iced his blood and made it so hard to breathe.

_Dammit._

"It's okay..." Tsuna's weak voice broke through the devastating revelation. The boy, although very weak, managed to smile. "I think... I think I understood why you did it. And that's... okay. Because I really... really love you, Master."

Love.

_Love. _

Byakuran stopped responding. He didn't even reflect the same response. Instead he sat their, hand overtop of Tsuna's with his heart hammering so loud against his chest he thought it was going to explode. He sat there until he felt Tsuna's breathing go out. He sat there listening to the heavy labored breathing Tsuna made each time he tried to grasp for breath, for life, for another chance.

He sat there as he wrapped his fingers around Tsuna's tiny, fragile neck.

He sat there as he suffocated the boy.

He sat there as he thought: _'This boy doesn't need to love a man damned for Hell.'_

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed this first chapter. I'm normally more upbeat and shit but I'm tired and have to go to work soon. UUUUUUUUUUUUGH. Anyways, reviews are highly appreciated as I'd like to hear your thoughts on this first chapter. Um. Shit. Something funny to close this out on a good note-

/PELVIC THRUSTING.

Okay I tried.

I shall see you all next **Saturday** when I update again!


	2. Chapter Two

Special thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and who have added this story to their alerts and faves! I'm happy with the positive responses o far! Sorry this took so long! Finals are coming up and school has been stressful. Also, this chapter was a real doosy to write seeing as this featured two characters who would probably never interact with each other on a normal basis-but I wanted Byakuran's character to break, in some way, and Haru was such an innocent character... anywho. On to the warning.

**Warning: The characters involved will be Byakuran and Haru. No. There is no romance between the two, so you don't have to worry about anything. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Byakuran and I wished I didn't own the nuclear warfare going on in my pants right now. AKA Mother nature's fucking gift to the female population. **

I swear I'm normally much more funnier than this but anyways, on with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Paris, France 1525**

Colors, vibrant and bright. The dawn of a new age intellectually and artistically. Byakuran sat perched upon his window seat, overlooking the crowd milling around the Gardens of the Château de Villandry. A beautiful topiary garden that Byakuran himself had helped to sculpt and create. Though gardening wasn't really his forte.

He was more of a... musician, so to speak.

"Though as for now I'm hitting a major roadblock." he leaned his head back against the arched window, a sigh escaping his lips. Melancholy weighed heavily on his shoulders. The day was progressing so slowly and no amount of playing on the piano could fix it. He just wasn't feeling a muse today.

A walk through the city might be able to help.

He threw on a light jacket and combed his spiky, white hair. A quick glance in his mirror led him to admire his startling, exotic beauty. No doubt that once he walked out this door all eyes would be on him. If not because of his looks then because of his prestige as a world class musician.

Once he stepped outside his Victorian home, the streets were alive. Women were escorted by their well to do husbands. Children ran up and down the streets laughing and playing. A group of clowns were performing tricks and handing out flyers advertising the arrival of _Cirque de rêves_. Artists plotted themselves on street corners with their colorful palettes and empty canvas with their hopes exposed on their sleeves.

"Pathetic," Byakuran whispered as he walked by one man who was offering the first session as free for anyone willing to try. Lord, some people were simply so _desperate. _Clawing and clinging, grappling and hurdling towards the shallow pool named 'success'. Byakuran was born gifted. He was a prodigy in the musical arts by age five. Performed in his first concert at age seven. Composed his own fugue by age nine. His life was a progression of never ending success that, honestly, was expected by a genius.

By a genius that transcended over all, over the intellectually inclined and the artistically divined.

Though his heart did that funny thing where it tugged with the tiniest twinges of sympathy. A newly acquired trait for the self-proclaimed god. One he couldn't say was his cup of tea, but he had to deal with. If his memory wasn't playing on tricks on him, Byakuran vaguely guessed the emotion came from something traumatizing or world-breaking—or he could be overreacting. That happened a lot.

"Ladies and gents! Citizens of the upper hills and citizens that still walk along the lower streets, hear my cry!"

Byakuran stopped in his trek, as did many others on the street at the girl's call. A girl, Byakuran noticed, who was dressed from head to toe like a...

"Broccoli?" Byakuran puffed out a laugh. "Am I seeing things...?" Nope, no wine in his systems and no sugar rush from an overdose with his treasure trove of chocolate. People on the streets stopped to stare as well. Whispers floated around. Mockery plopped through the air and bounced into the sky to join the clouds above. Multiplying and growing as a tiny crowd of derision appeared around the Broccoli Girl.

Obviously unaware of their scornful glances, the girl continued. "Ah, such a beautiful crowd! Haru is very pleased! For today's show, Haru is going to show you the wonderful world of magical vegetables!"

Oh, _that _generated some laughter. Though Byakuran could easily pick out the malice. This girl was going to get ridiculed.

His heart did that funny twinge again.

The girl, Haru, proceeded to do numerous tricks—many of which all failed in the end. Laughter arose and people started to fish around for loose change. They threw them at her for all that their dirty francs were worth.

"Eek!" she squeaked, shielding herself from the onslaught.

Byakuran folded his arms. His lips turning into a little frown. His heart was doing that funny, twingy thing again and it was truly starting to grate on his nerves. Everyone really was getting on his nerves. This crowd of people that only gathered around to make fun of a girl who—though rather poorly—was trying her best at something. If it were him, he would have walked up to her and told her point blank that her career in magic was futile.

A little boy tossed a tomato into the air, fully intent on throwing it at the girl who was quivering on the cobblestone streets in fear. Byakuran had enough. He grabbed the boy by the wrist, a smile that was all but real and eyes as cold as the wintery coast of Russia.

"Now what in the world are you doing throwing a perfectly good franc away?" Byakuran clucked his tongue and plucked the coin out of the boy's hand.

"Hey!" the boy, barely ten, started to jump and jump to reach Byakuran's outstretched hand. He made grabbing motions towards the empty, tense air. "That's my coin! Gimme it!"

"I'd rather not. You obviously do not understand the importance of currency. Same goes for you folks." his purple eyes glanced around the crowd. He noticed the involuntary shivers, the shadows of shame, the clarity of indifference, and the icy frost of annoyance. "This girl's act may be pitiful, but throwing your money at her is doing the exact _opposite _of your plans to torment. If anything, I say this girl has made a day's profit from your stupidity." he glanced back to Broccoli Girl. She was staring at him with the widest brown eyes he had ever seen.

Oh Lord, when did he start to care...?

The crowd began to disperse after that, leaving the area with heads hung in shame. Mutters still stained the air, but at this point Byakuran couldn't care less. His eyes were still on the girl who looked all in the world lost and confused as to what just happened.

This was where he slipped on a smile, fake but good enough to portray an air of someone who really cared. Byakuran bent down and started to gather up the loose coins.

"Ah..." the girl began. Byakuran had a handful of coins and handed it to her. "Y-You really didn't have to do that! Haru wasn't hurt! And Haru really doesn't need the money!"

Byakuran slowed down in his collecting, his fingers twirling a gold franc in his hands. "Is that so...?" he chuckled. "Then you're trying to tell me you came out here, put on that ridiculous costume and all, just for fun?"

"Yes!" Haru replied without any shame.

Lovely, he helped out a full-blown, raging _idiot. _

Though he didn't let his letdown show on his face. Rule #1 of being a Gentleman: Never let a woman, no matter how crazy she may be, see your disappointment. They'll start to ask questions and once that occurs there's no going back.

"Well," Byakuran had scooped up all the coins by now and deposited them into a little sack he carried around his belt loop. "I don't know about you, Miss, but if I had come across a bounty of wealth such as you, I would take up the money without hesitation." He counted about twenty francs worth of coins. Not enough to buy a loaf of bread but it could get a quarter of bread and maybe some soup to wash it down with.

Haru seemed to weigh the pros and cons—whatever they happened to be—for taking the money before breaking out into a big smile with her hands outstretched to receive the money. "Hehe, you're right! Thanks, Mister... Mister uh... Who are you?"

Now Byakuran wasn't one to toot his own horn so soon, but his pride was very much intact—and _strong. _The fact that this girl had no clue who he was, or never gave the inclination that she knew all along, was a raging fire that threatened to consume Byakuran's pride as an accomplished musician to ashes.

His eyebrow twitched. His smile lost about 25% of its luster. "You mean you've never heard of me? Surely you must be joking."

"Nope!"

"... _mon Dieu_, you're not joking. You're not joking one bit... Tell me, you haven't been living under a rock your whole life, have you?"

"No, Mister! Haru has actually been living in this nice cardboard box about, um..." Haru stuck her arms out the entire length wiggling her fingers, "this long and this big. It's really cozy and stuff."

A blank expression painted Byakuran's face. For once in his life... he was completely and utterly _stupefied. _Byakuran smacked himself in the face, dragging his hand down until it rested on his chin.

"I thought seeing you wear that _atrocious _broccoli costume spoke volumes on your incompetence but I stand corrected!" Byakuran glanced left and right to find a flyer, picture, mural, statue, _anything _that would show this girl how big of an error she was producing. Luckily, his eyes fell onto a nearby flyer hanging on the lampost. Byakuran quickly ran over, grabbed the flyer, and ran back so he could show it to Haru.

Byakuran's pride felt ten times better, the burns of the flames dying down, when he witnessed that fragile moment of realization and awe... only to have those flames come back with revival when the light all but vanished.

"Wow, Mister, Haru never knew you were such a good artist! Did you draw that while you were gone? Cool!"

Byakuran's jaw hung open. His eyes were wide as saucers. How... How in the world...

How in the world had Byakuran managed to meet someone so, utterly, _oblivious_?

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y.+

Two weeks later and Byakuran still did not have a muse yet.

On the bright side, he made a new friend.

Though, he wouldn't really call Haru a _friend. _Because a friend, by definition, was easy to manifest. Friend / noun / **a** **person **whom one knows and with **whom **one **has a bond of mutual affection**, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations. There was nothing mutual about this relationship. More like... a parasitic relationship where Haru was the parasite and Byakuran was the unlucky host who had to deal with her imbibing presence day in and day out.

"Haru," Byakuran was lounging on a park bench, staring blankly at empty music sheets that refused to spark innovation.

"Hm?"

"You do know that's not a pool, right?"

The girl was splashing about in the fountain, this time wearing a carrot suit—despite Byakuran's protests to do the exact opposite—that generated as much, if not more attention, towards Haru as her last outfit did.

"Mhm! But there aren't pools around and it's really, really hot! So why not take a swim in the fountain?" Haru picked up a shiny franc and beamed. "Look, Marshmallow-san, Haru found a really shiny franc! Isn't it cute?"

Byakuran's mouth twitched. Was this the part where he was supposed to nod his head and go along with this insanity? "That's very cute, Haru."

"Haru thinks she's going to put it in her collection."

Another thing that bothered Byakuran to no end, but he was too much of a gentlemen to actually voice his annoyance. Haru's insistent use of using third person pronouns. It was moderately cute at first, however it was growing out of hand. Day in and day out it was "Haru loves this!" and "Haru loves that!". Was it so hard to throw a pronoun into the mix every once in awhile?

Shaking his head, Byakuran walked over to Haru. He pulled at her cheeks, stretching them as far as they can go. "Haru, I am only doing this for your own good, but _pour l'amour de Dieu_ woman use some pronouns! Say it with me: 'My name is Haru. I love embracing my inner steamed vegetable'."

"Wakuwran! Waru wan't!"

"Wrong. Try again."

"Wut wour wolding wout Waru's wace!"

Byakuran gave an exceptionally hard tug, causing the girl to jump from the force. "This will only make you stronger, Haru. Now please. Try it on more time and I want to see some _energy_!"

"Look at that weirdo over there..."

"Which one?" came a snort. "The talking carrot girl or the albino pulling at her face?"

Byakuran froze. He had expected the occasional stares. He even counted the various comments that would no doubt be spurred by their merged presence. Stopping in his "help" Byakuran looked over his shoulder to the pair of girls behind him.

"Problem, ladies?"

One girl stiffened. The other girl, a tad feistier, stuck her nose in the air. "But of course! It's certainly improper to be outside in such a state of dress." she pointed her finger at Haru. "Take that ridiculous costume off this instant!"

Byakuran took a glance back at Haru, the girl looking for all the world like she was stalk on what to say. Her body was shivering, water droplets rolling off her costume. Byakuran mentally sighed. He would have to stick up for her again. Put his neck out into the crossfire and hopefully not get guillotined in the process.

"No I will not!"

The outburst shattered everything. Byakuran's eyes were slightly widened as he watched Haru stand up, ready to defend herself. Though in all honesty, Byakuran was more surprised that Haru actually used 'I' instead of her name.

'_See? My efforts paid off just fine.' _

The two girls were just as shocked, though Fiesty One was the first to recover. "Oh please. As if I will stand here and allow you to talk back to me in such a manner! You are no more than an impoverished street rat with no ounce of sense in your head! Common sense would tell you that wearing such atrocious suits will get you mocked!"

"H-I-I don't care! Wearing these suits make me very happy! I... I know Ha-I am not rich but I do not wish to be rich of any sort! I... Haru wants to do things that make her happy, and make other people smile! And... And if Haru can do that—if I can make people feel joy even at the expense of myself... then I do not care!" Haru was bawling at this point, tears streaming down her face as she delivered the final message to her tirade. "You can mock me all you want but you will not stop me from fulfilling my dream!"

Silence entered. It was heavy, tense, so very ponderous that it made Byakuran's shoulders sag even after the two girls left. He had never seen Haru so... angry. Comically angry where she puffed out her cheeks and ignored him for five seconds, yes. But the type of anger that left a heavy silence in its wake, that left words behind that ran in your mind for days? Never. And, to be truthful, Byakuran never wanted to see such anger from the girl again. To him, she was so simple minded. So at ease with the world and with herself and her vastly creativity that something so brutally ugly as anger didn't fit into her jigsaw puzzle.

Before Byakuran knew it, he was doubled over with laughter. Pure, unbridled laughter.

Haru huffed, stomping out of the fountain to smack Byakuran on the shoulder. "Why are you laughing!"

"Well!" Byakuran chirped. "I'm just so glad to see that my teaching methods worked! You finally used I!"

"O-Only because it came out so suddenly!"

"Suuuuuuure. It's quite alright. I'm a miracle worker no matter what it is, or what I do. You need not feel shame in thanking me."

"I will not thank you! Not one—Eek!" Haru clamped her hands over her face, the realization that she had committed—in her mind—the cardinal sin.

Byakuran was doubled over with laughter. His pride swelling because, well, he was right! As to be expected, of course, but it was always nice to have a little reminder of how right and awesome he was from time to time. Haru's blush was adorable, to say the least, and Byakuran poked fun at the brunet all day.

Whoa... _All day. _Byakuran had spent the entire day with this girl and hadn't thought anything of it. Wow, that was incredibly... weird.

The albino shook his head. Was now really a good time to focus on the strangest corners of his relationships? No! He had a concert in two weeks and absolutely no new music to boast about. This was seriously troubling for the prodigist. His fans expected more than the best music from him now. They wanted something revolutionary, awe-inspiring... wondrous! Yet his mind was completely blank.

Haru had come to sit beside him on the bench now. Her costume partially dried, with her hair sticking to her round face. The two had a staredown. An awkward stare down when neither party really knew what to say. A hater of silence, Byakuran pulled at Haru's cheek.

"Shtop that!"

"Haru, I need to ask you a question."

"Can you do that without pulling on Haru—Ow! My cheek!"

"Not really," Byakuran smirked before letting go. "Now back to my question. You never really told me why you dress up in such ridiculous—" the glare Haru was shooting him made Byakuran rethink his word choice. "—uh, innovating costumes!"

"Much better," Haru huffed, though a tiny smile was on her face. She leaned back against the bench and glanced up at the sky. "Um... Haru guesses it's because... Haru's momma really wanted her to eat her vegetables and stuff. Said it would make Haru strong and beautiful! But Ha—I mean... _I _was really stubborn. So I never listened."

"This is turning out to be a very bo—" Another glare from Haru promptly shut Byakuran up. Well then. Last time he added his own two cents into the conversation.

"One day," she continued. "My mother got very sick. First it was never-ending colds. Then came the fever... oh the fever was absolutely dreadful. She became delirious... babbling on and on while Haru sat there... helpless! Confused! I started to eat my vegetables after that, hoping that she'd get better... but she didn't."

Haru became downcast. That glimmer of childlike innocence Byakuran found so silently endearing was diminished. Squandered out by the harsh boot of reality and terrible memories. She curled into herself, her knees to her chest, her chin to her knees. She looked like the entire world had crumbled from underneath of her.

Byakuran felt that odd twinge of sympathy course through his body again. It clawed at his heart. Broke every string that made his heart dangle inside its bony confine like a puppet tied to its strings. Made him bleed in a way he never had before... in a bloody wave of compassion and _care. _

Before he realized what he was doing, Byakuran pulled the girl into an embrace. The touch burned him. Burned him in so many ways that Byakuran squeezed the girl even tighter simply to escape the ache that was pounding at his soul. He felt a wetness touch his shoulder. Felt a shiver and a shudder and an earthquake that didn't belong to his body erupt. Experienced what it was like to see someone go through the gruesome and terrible pain and losing a loved one. Oh, how Byakuran's soul ached. How his heart cried out in sympathy for it too, deep down, knew what it felt like to lose someone you cared for.

Byakuran wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. Or really what brought on the sudden urge to hug Haru. Then he heard her voice, soft as a pin drop, whisper: "Thank you, Byakuran". The man stiffened. That was the first time she ever referred to him as Byakuran. It was always "Marshmallow-kun" Or "Fluffbutt". But his real name? The man shivered.

He didn't respond.

Only held onto her for words truly didn't hold a purpose anymore.

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y.+

"Haru..."

"Hm?"

"You live in a pigsty." And that was Byakuran being considerate. Haru's living arrangements, if you could even call them that, were atrocious. Trash littered every inch of the floor! Rats scurried here and there. The smell of rotting feces and decaying trash stunk up every corner.

Yet Haru stood by her little box like she was the queen of the world.

Well, queen of the world encompassed by apples.

"No Haru does not! This place is fabulous! Look!" she grabbed Byakuran by the arm and pulled him over to the mouth of the alleyway. "Haru has the perfect view of the canals over there, see? And my box is really big so I have enough room to be comfortable while I sleep!"

Byakuran scrunched up his face. "A pigsty is a pigsty and you, Haru, are nothing but a little piggy. Can piggy go oink?"

"You're so mean, Bya!" Haru huffed. Though her huff turned into four rounds of sneezes, followed by an wretched cough. Byakuran cocked his eyebrow. Where in the world had that come from?

"You okay there, Haru? You sounded like you were giving birth to a hairball over there?"

"_Je suis d'accord! _Just a little sneeze!"

"Just a little—Haru. You nearly gagged up a _lung. _That is far from being little."

"But Haru's fine, see!" Haru twirled around, singing a random song that was so out of tune Byakuran visibly cringed. "Sick people can't dance!"

"Nor can they sing either..." Byakuran picked at his throbbing ear. His eardrum would be shot for weeks!

Haru looked about ready to retaliate when another round of sneezes occurred. They lasted longer this time. Byakuran vaguely wondered if he should say something. Maybe take her back to his place so she didn't sleep outside in such unfavorable conditions. Then he remembered that although he may have grown some kindness, his capacity to care for others wasn't so high that he'd offer Haru a room at his mansion.

Though the thought lingered.

Soon the two had exited that God Forsaken alleyway for much brighter streets filled to the brim with people. The circus was finally in town! As all the flyers boasted about, of course. Byakuran had hoped to stop by for a visit. He was an avid lover of circuses because they provided such a wonderful escape from the pressures of music.

Haru's eyes landed on a flyer. Her eyes sparkled with wonder. Byakuran could easily put two and two together before the girl even asked.

"Would you like to go see it?"

Haru nodded her head. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Can we?"

"That's why I asked you, right?" Byakuran smiled lopsidedly. God, this girl was a riot.

Haru latched her arm onto Byakuran's and dragged him behind a trail of people who were no doubt heading for the circus. When they reached, Byakuran used his special connections to get them into the circus for free. Entering the circus was like diving into a whole new world. Music, light and airy, bounced around the round top. Animals of all shapes and sizes walked with an air about them that defined them from being different than some common street rat. People from all different social classes sat in the seats made for the audience.

Byakuran snatched them a row up front, right by the action, and Haru was bouncing with excitement.

"Bya, what if we see an elephant? Do you think Haru could ride it?"

"No, I don't think Haru could ride it. But I do believe _I _could ride it."

Haru stuck out her tongue. Byakuran chuckled. She made teasing her _so _easy.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Children of all ages! I am proud to welcome you all to _Cirque de rêves_! You are all invited to enjoy a night of hopes, wishes, dreams, and... of course..." the lights shut off. The entire circus was encompassed with darkness, black and pitch. The darkness where you couldn't even see your own hand in front of your face. _"Nightmares..." _the ringleader continued from somewhere."

A crash of thunder ruptured the stage. Haru jumped. Byakuran, on the other hand, only twitched for appearances sake. Amusement sparkled in his eyes. He wondered what would happen next. For the next three hours performers from every walk of earth came out showing their odd yet extraordinary skills. Animals were whipped into submission and forced to act out in the grand scheme of the allure of dreams, and nightmares, and how overly vivid an imagination can become if you use it the right way.

And how horribly vivid the imagination could transform into if you allow your fears to fester and rot your mind.

By the end of it all, everyone was out of their seats in an uproar. Haru had tears streaming down her face as she joined the fray, clapping wildly along with the crowd. Byakuran wasn't as hyped as everyone else was but he hollered for the sake of hollering. Even screamed an encore or two because he could. No big deal.

When the excitement finally died down, everyone got up to leave. Haru stayed behind. She walked over to the ring leader and started to wave her hands excitedly, talking a mile a minute. Byakuran stood behind, picking up a few words here and there. He couldn't decipher much, but with a hunch he figured Haru was gushing about how awesome the show had been. From what he could see, the ringmaster wasn't the slightest bit fazed by her strange dress. Though if he really thought about it the ringleader must have seen so many strange oddities in his lifetime, a girl dressed up like an apple wasn't too strange.

Thirty minutes later and the two were back in the outside world. The curtain dropped behind him and Haru. Their trip to the world of dreams, imagination, and nightmares were all but a... well, a dream. Byakuran stretched his arms up high, basking in the winter's cold air. December had just come around. It wrapped it's cold, frostbitten arms around the shoulders of men, children, and women. No one could escape it's frozen grip.

Haru shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth. "Wasn't that show great, Bya?"

"Worth every penny," Byakuran shot her a lopsided smile.

Another shiver ran up Haru's spine. "You know, Bya. T-That ringleader asked H-Haru if she wanted to j-join them. Haru said... She would think about it. D-Do you think I should join them—_mon Dieu _it's so cold!"

"This year has been quite frigid." Byakuran added in, a tad bit absentmindedly. He noticed the violent shivers that continued to ravage Haru's small frame and wondered, vaguely, if he should say something—do something.

"Aya... I think—Haru thinks she could—"

Slowly, like ice melting off a budding flower, Byakuran watched as Haru fainted. Her body hit the ground with the silence of a pin dropping onto a newly mopped floor. Stunned, Byakuran did not know how to react. Was this a trick? A minor trickery of the brain? An extremely vivid daydream? He pinched his cheek, only to find out that yes—this was reality. No, this was not a dream.

And yes, Haru was running a _dangerously _high fever.

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y.+

Byakuran had taken the girl back to his mansion. The maids and butlers were all ravingly confused, but their comments to themselves until their master was out of sight. No doubt some horrid gossip would be spread throughout the halls of the Gesso mansion like wildfire. At that moment of time, Byakuran hadn't given the whispers and stares a second thought. His heart was wrapped in such concern over Haru's well being—because it would be troublesome to leave her weakened state behind—that nothing else really mattered.

Now, four days later, he had caught wind that the girl was either a prostitute he grabbed from the streets. The daughter of the king who had recently gone missing (though that was absolutely ludicrous seeing as the king's daughter had _blonde _hair and Haru was clearly a brunette). Or, and this one was the kicker, that Byakuran had went into the circus, stole one of the clowns, and is now holding her ransom until the lion tamer relinquishes his team of lions for the albino's personal use. The last rumor was one of Byakuran's favorites, if he were to be truthful, but at this moment all he could think about was the girl eating soup in his bed, barely recovering from her strange bout of sickness.

Not to mention that his concert was in another week's time, and still no muse. Byakuran was becoming frustrated. He had to take care of Haru for the girl wouldn't allow anyone other than Byakuran to look and tend to her in such a pitiful state. Byakuran struggled to come up with a line of music. A melody, a phrase, a fugue, a damn composition that strung together a masterpiece Byakuran was critically acclaimed to give birth to as if it were second nature! Such stress was taking a toll on Byakuran's nerves. He bit on his thumbnail and snapped at any poor, unsuspecting personnel he happened to make eye contact. Now he sat at his piano bench, resorting to banging his fists onto the keys to create music—any music; no matter how putrid, rotten, and discordant it sounded.

"B-Bya...?"

Byakuran whipped his head around. Haru was finally stripped out of that ridiculous fruit costume she normally wore, wearing one of the dresses Byakuran had his maid go out and buy. Her face was flushed. Her chocolate brown eyes barely held a flame to the spark of life they used to. He swallowed. She looked so close to—

"Haru, you should go back to bed. You're not well."

"H-H...I—I can't." she tried to pull back the covers, her hand shaking. "Mama... I gotta... to Mama."

"No. You can't." Byakuran walked over to the bed and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, pushing her back down. "Your mother... Haru, you know she's not here."

"Not... here?" Deliria. She was going completely insane. A strange feeling of urgency crept up Byakuran's back and grabbed him by the back of his neck. He instinctively reached for his neck and swallowed. Was this... panic? The sudden, uncontrollable fear of anxiety that was so easy for the albino to define but to experience...? Over this girl he had only met a few weeks ago...?

No.

This could not be.

This could _not happen again. _

Why Byakuran thought of those last, three words, he could not comprehend nor fathom. All he could do was continue to convince Haru that her mother was not waiting for her at the circus. Nor would she ever come back. He watched as Haru went through a series of breakdowns. Mental, first. Delirious and crazed she started to lash out at Byakuran no matter what he did. Then she cried. Oh, the wails were terrible. They attacked Byakuran's icy heart and made it bleed. Finally, came the silence.

The worst part of it all.

Byakuran stood there, stupefied, exhausted, _spent. _He frowned, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he stared at the girl who looked blankly at the window now. Her episodes gone—though far from over. He noticed that her eyes never left the spiraling circus top that still loomed over the city.

Oh right... the circus had one more day left; tomorrow.

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y.+

The doctor stopped by to check up on Haru, and the news was not good.

"Is that all you can do?" Byakuran's voice almost climbed above the heights of it's normal, nonchalant and calm tenor.

The doctor's face remained impassive and completely inconsiderate. "Gesso, I understand your alarm but I have done everything in my power. Let this girl go to God now."

Let this girl go to God...?

To... _God? _

Byakuran spat on the man's shoes. "I will not let this girl leave my side. Do you understand? Either run another test on her and fix her ailment, or leave! But once you step out this door, mark my words, I will tarnish your reputation that not even _God _can save you!"

A slight crack to the mask. The doctor rubbed his temples, annoyance hanging on his shoulders. "_Monsieur Gesso_, I am not a miracle worker. I am but a man who has done all that he can. My medical capabilities have been exhausted. The disease running through that girl's body as we speak is _hereditary. _Passed on by her mother—a sex-linked disease. It will eat away at her nervous system and body until she is nothing but an empty shell of the human being she once was." the doctor sighed. Finally, the emotion of pain flashed through the doctor's eyes.

Byakuran's frown deepened. "So you expect me to wait and watch her _die_?"

"You can pray. Pray and ask that her soul comes easily and painlessly before the Lord."

And with that, the doctor left.

He left behind a transforming doll and a hopelessly musician in his wake.

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y.+

Three days later.

The disease was virulent.

It came in like a riot. Spread flames that could torch down a city in mere seconds. Burned down an entire personality without even batting an eye. Byakuran was forced to watch it all crumble away. First the bodily movements deteriorated. Haru couldn't even lift her arm let alone go to the bathroom by herself. Then came motor and mental traits. They all disappeared like the fickle romance of teenage love. The worst part, however, was watching the glimmer in Haru's eyes slowly melt away. No longer did they shine like golden jewels bestowed around the queen's neck for the world to stare in awe and jealousy.

They were muddy, inky, _dead. _

Byakuran refused to go into his room anymore.

He refused to look at the former face of... of that _girl _who was nothing now but a dying doll!

"Dammit!" he slammed his fists against the keys, a terrible sound ringing throughout the music room. Pure fury was running through his veins, but not at Haru. Oh no, all the anger was at himself. For not seeing the warning signs. For not conjuring up the notion that whatever killed Haru's mother unexpectedly could kill Haru later on, as well. Byakuran was supposed to be prodigy! A genius! Yet he couldn't save two people...?

Wait... two people...?

Byakuran froze. Why... why in the world did it feel like he had gone through this before? The despair and anguish of losing someone so close and knowing you can't do anything to save them...?

Before he could expand further on his thoughts, a tug on his sleeve came. He was about to snap at the offender when his eyes fell on Haru...

"Haru! What do you think you're doing? Get into bed." he commanded. How had the girl gotten up to even get to the music room? It was a floor below Byakuran's room.

Haru shook her head, slowly and methodically. Her lips quivered and barely formed the word 'circus'.

She wanted to go to the circus.

"No, Haru..." Byakuran let loose a sigh, running his hands through his hair. "We can't go to the circus, alright? You are not feeling well and to bring you out in this weather would be suicide."

Yet Haru wouldn't let it go. She continued to tug on Byakuran's sleeve. Her lips quivered. The word circus appeared over and over and over again. She wanted to go back to the circus. She wanted to go back to that wretched circus even if it _killed her. _Byakuran sat at the piano bench, for the first time in years at a complete and utter loss as to what to do...

Another tug on his shoulder.

Byakuran could barely glance at Haru's eyes.

Finally... he cracked.

"One last show," Byakuran whispered before carrying Haru upstairs to get ready. There was no way she was going outside like that.

+H. U. M. A. N. I. T. Y.+

All eyes were on the albino, but this time not in reverence.

Oh no... these stares were born from utter confusion and wonder; not of the respectful kind.

Although they had a justifiable reason. It was not everyday that you see a world-renowned pianist carrying around a girl wearing a celery costume.

"A few more minutes, Haru. Hang on for me okay?" Byakuran stared straight ahead. His strides long and graceful, yet hurried and on a mission. He would not stop until he reached that round top, the colorful music, the mystery and amazement of the world within the circus.

Finally, they arrived at their destination. Haru's breathing was short, shallow. Her fever was so hot, and her face so flushed, Byakuran almost regretted bringing her out here.

Almost.

The last performance of the day was already over by the time they had gotten there, and Byakuran's heart almost sunk.

Almost.

The ringleader had remembered their faces and offered them a few minutes for a little look around. His eyes landed on Haru, small at first, before they shot up in shock and confusion.

"_Mon Dieu! _What happened to this girl?"

"Don't ask..." Byakuran shook his head, slipping on a smile. A smile so, so fake and perfected over the years that not even Byakuran could tell whether it was genuine or bust. "She's a little under the weather and demanded that I take her out no matter what."

"But the temperature—!"

"I _know_ what it's like outside. I—" Byakuran's smile never faltered. "I simply could not let my dear friend's wish... go to waste. Please, Ringleader. Allow us to have a dance?"

The ringleader took of his hat, scratching the back of his head. Of all the things... He shrugged his shoulders and bowed, offering them center stage.

"Haru. Haru, can you hear me? We're going to dance, okay? Your moment in the circus has finally come." Byakuran wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her up against his chest. He nestled his nose into her hair and moved in a circle, languidly and graceful—dancing to the music that Byakuran hummed randomly, as if the notes were magically appearing in his head for him to recite.

"_The clown takes the stage. Lights go dim. A world is painted in front of your eyes. The clown does a dance, and the dance, is grand. And the world in front of your eyes, grows bright." _A tune that picks itself up, airy and light, yet the words that pounding into Byakuran's skull as he made another circle were anything but light. _"And ice, it comes, and seals your soul. And locks you away, and takes you from me. The world, which you saw, is no longer there. And the clown that was dancing... has stopped... it's dance." _

Haru's body became limp.

Her heart stopped beating.

The clown had stopped it's dance.

And the world, the world he saw with one more person to make his life a bit more interesting... was dead.

+H. U. M. A. N. I . T. Y.+

Though despair we find creativity.

For one can not travel through the labyrinth forever without formulating in their mind new ways to escape to counter the old ways that failed.

Immediately after Haru's death, Byakuran was hit with a muse. A muse so powerful that it clung to him and shackled onto his wrists and ankles, refusing to release him. He was in his music room day and night working, reworking, building, rebuilding the perfect melody tilted: _The Clown's Dance. _

His work was acclaimed as music far beyond this generation's time. The concept of a clown who's only wish was to make the world happy, to be a grade different above the rest, ends in a tragic death of his dream, and himself. When asked about how he got such a strikingly beautiful yet startling muse for such a piece, Byakuran could only answer with that secretive smile of his. The one that hid a lie. The one that never reached his eyes. The one that held back every damn emotion he was better of sealing away.

"_A great musician never reveals his secrets." _

The only clue the world would get at where Byakuran got his inspiration from would be at Haru's funeral.

Only two people came: Byakuran and the ringleader.

The two people that ever showed interest in the girl.

It was a short funeral. No words were said. The only thing that occurred at the funeral was Byakuran pulling out scores of music, along with flowers, and placing them onto Haru's grave.

"Thank you... Haru." Byakuran pressed two fingers to his lips, then pressed them to the tombstone. "Now go. Find your mother... I know she's missed you."

A heavy chunk of ice settled itself into the pit of Byakuran's stomach. As if... as if this wasn't the first _time _he lost someone he dared to bring close to him. As if... another strand of chains he had painstakingly wrapped around his heart, to seal off any and all feeble human emotion that made him ordinary, was rusting away with the ache that continued to pound and pound at this heart.

Byakuran felt something wet roll down his cheek.

When he glanced up at the sky, the clouds were parted. The sky was blue. The sun was shining. Not a single gray cloud was in sight.

Then... he reached up and touched his face.

_Wet. _

Byakuran was crying... and the feeling was absolutely _terrifying. _


End file.
